


Untitled Bookstore ficlet

by GreenArchitect



Series: Tumblr Prompts [26]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bookstore, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-20
Updated: 2016-05-20
Packaged: 2018-06-09 13:10:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6908521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreenArchitect/pseuds/GreenArchitect
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Eames doesnt really like to read but he loves to visit Arthur's small bookstore</p>
            </blockquote>





	Untitled Bookstore ficlet

**Author's Note:**

> So I really loved this prompt and the reason why this took so long was life and I ended up writig two versions. Here’s the original!

Eames wasn’t a well read man but he could appreciate the value. He’d even bought a few of his own, granted they ended up more like decoration for his coffee table. Helena, his darling twin sister, was the definition of a bibliophile and the reason why he was spending his Saturday trawling through every bookstore in his neighborhood looking for an apparently rare copy of the works of Pushkin. Whoever that was. In hindsight he should’ve chosen a different, more clear headed day to go on this particular adventure but her birthday was fast approaching and he’d never have it shipped in time if he ordered it. So he dragged his hungover self out of bed and cursed while chugging a cup of day old coffee. 

 

After the first two bookstores Eames was certain he’d never get the smell of book rot out of his nostrils. By the fifth store he was certain the dust was going to be stuck in his lungs forever. By lunch time Eames decided there were atleast three types of bookstore owners. The first was the kindly older woman who made no bones about his broad shoulders and openly eyed them as she searched for the book. The second was the older gentleman who made no bones about his broad shoulders and openly eyed them as he waxed poetic about how hard it was to find a man who read. The first two were bearable and in one case very tempting but Eames was on a mission, but it was the third kind of owner that annoyed him. And to be honest the zombie eyed teenagers weren’t actually owners, more like lost little gremlins with iPods and their selfies.  
He’d been through about 3 of them so it was with an inward groan that he approached the counter of number four and found it being manned by what looked like a 16 year old who was very seriously reading-Who the fuck reads books that thick? Eames was still considering the reasons when the boy looked up and blinked at him looking equally bewildered. 

“Can I help you?“ 

 

“Uh yeah, I’m looking for this.” He handed over the slip of paper with the full title that he couldn’t be arsed to remember. The young man read it, then looked at Eames warily, then turned to the laptop at his elbow with a huff. 

“Is this a gift?” The question was innocent enough but the guy’s tone was dripping with snobbery as if he couldn’t possibly be looking for himself. 

 

“Oi what’re you implying at, kid?” Eames was in no mood for little brats who were still going through puberty. 

 

“Definitely a gift then.” He snorted and rolled his eyes at Eames while he typed in the information. “Yes, we have one copy. Do you-” 

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?!” Eames felt as dumb as the guy was making him out to be but his whiskey soaked brain was struggling to figure it out. 

 

“We have the book you wanted. I’ll go get it then.” He replied dryly enough the Eames could practically hear the insult. Eames grunted and mumbled something about pimply faced kids as the other stood and-oh. He was awfully tall for a teenager. Nearly as tall as Eames actually. The guy looked at him, mouth in a thin line as he looked at him expectantly. When Eames simply tried his best to look intimidating, he huffed and walked into the rows and rows of book cases. Without really thinking about it, Eames followed and looked at the neat labels on each book case. 

 

“The owner must be anal retentive or something.” He thought aloud. 

 

“It’s called organization, Mr.-“ 

 

“Just Eames. No Mr., thanks. And you are?” 

 

“Ofcourse. Arthur.“ 

 

“Don’t think your boss would much like you being a little shit to the customers, Arthur.” He singsonged and grinned cheekily. 

 

“That’s not really a concern of mine, Mr. Eames.” The Mr. was said so icily that Eames swore he could feel the chill. 

 

“How old are you? You talk like you’re about 50 when you couldn’t be more than 18 and that’s pushing it.” Eames shoved his hands into his jean’s pockets as they stopped and turned down a small aisle. The young man scowled at him.

 

“What? I’m 30 thank you very much and the owner!” His outburst caught Eames off guard and he stepped back a few paces. 

 

“30? No, with that baby face?” Eames laughed openly. “It’s your dad’s shop and he lets you take care of the shop because you’re so mature for your age.” Eames’ grin widened as Arthur’s ears went red. It was pretty amusing. 

 

“Seriously, how stupid are you?” Arthur scowled and fished in his pocket and shoved his photo id into Eames’ face. Oh. Eames looked from the id to Arthur’s scowling face. 

 

"In my defense. You do look awfully young.” Eames tried defiantly. Arthur, obviously underwhelmed by Eames, didn’t say another word and turned on his heel to quickly walk down the aisle. He retrieved the book and brushed past Eames so cooly that Eames swore he could feel the breeze.   
***********************

“Going to give me the silent treatment? If anything that was a compliment on your youthful appearance.” Arthur snorted as he rung the book up. 

 

“You said I talked like a 50 year old.” He looked at him with a smirk as if to challenge him to spin that comment. 

 

“Complimenting on your obvious distinctive personality.” Eames returned quickly and leaned on the counter with a grin of his own. Now that he knew Arthur wasn’t a teen he was a bit more interested. 

 

“$50.72, Mr. Eames.” Arthur sighed and looked bored except for something in his eyes that Eames was all to happy to focus on. 

 

“What is the cost of your forgiveness then?” He asked as he handed over the cash and made sure to let his fingers brush over the other man’s palm just a little. The blonde was all to pleased to see the slight look of surprise on the man’s face, even if it was quickly followed by an eye roll. 

 

“Nothing to forgive.” He handed over the change and slipped a business card into the front flap. 

 

“Wouldn’t happen to have your number on that would it?” 

 

“You’re going to have to do a lot more than that if you want my number. Have a good day, Mr. Eames.” With that he went back to his book with the loveliest little smirk. 

 

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Eames had never enjoyed a dismissal, or a challenge, more.


End file.
